Prose poem for Rob and Susie
At Jardim do Mar, west of the point, the surf was up, breakers moving from right to left across the bay. A fine mist swirled on the raised esplanade from where I looked down on six surfers as they pushed out to sea. At Fistral they were always specks in the distance so that here for the first time I was able to watch their technique: catching the wave a little ahead of where it was breaking, travelling along and in front until the board began to slow, steering back up the wave for a second surge. One surfer managed three spurts which carried him a hundred yards towards the point. I was reminded of ‘overwhelming’, the manner in which being is described as reaching beings, shaking them with the majesty of its arrival. How did the bookish Heidegger come up with a description like that? Skiing and she-ing, I suppose, although possibly not in that order.